Wards Company, the precursor to Circuit City, was in part the licensed TV and major appliance department in chains of membership stores.  One of these chains was the GEM stores.

GEM was going bankrupt and had closed their Kentucky stores.  We moved our merchandise from multiple locations into an old tobacco warehouse in Louisville and advertised a huge “Going-out-of-Business” sale.

One of our Wards’ store managers had been on site for weeks preparing for and running the sale.  It was nearing the holidays and he wanted to get home to his family, plus he was exhausted from long hours seven days a week.

I was one of only two Assistant Managers for Wards Company and was working in Virginia Beach, Virginia at a different chain of stores.

Tony, my assistant manager counterpart from New Jersey and I (who were both in our early 20s) were tapped to go to Louisville to take over the sale and give the Manager a couple of weeks off.

We arrived on a Friday and went straight to the warehouse where we met the Manager.  He welcomed us, introduced us to some of the team, handed us the keys and left.

At closing time we counted out the cash registers and prepared the deposit to go to the bank.  But we realized we had no idea where to deposit the money and it was now after nine at night.  We were the last ones to lock up and had failed to get the phone numbers of anyone who could have helped, such as the woman who was the office manager. (This was pre-internet, pre-cell phone 1970’s.)

We decided we couldn’t leave the money in the warehouse, and I suggested we take it with us and put it in the hotel safe.  Tony thought that was a good idea.

Checking in at the hotel, I asked to put our bank bag in the safe.  It was a blue stiff fabric bag with a leather patch surrounding the lock that secured the zipper that was along the top of the bag.  Probably 9″ by 12″ overall.  The hotel manager was called to the desk to write up our receipt.  He filled in my name and address, then got to the question of the value and nature of the contents.  I told him the truth: “about $60,000 in cash, plus  checks totaling another $38,000”.

I thought the guy was going to faint.  He said he couldn’t accept the bag as its value exceeded the hotel’s insurance limits.  He said I would need to keep it in my room.  My room, the number of which was now known to the hotel staff along with the knowledge that there was $60,000 in cash inside.

I didn’t see that I had a choice.  There was a brief negotiation between Tony and I as to whose room the money would stay in. I lost.  The money went with me.

Tony’s room was next door and we decided we’d stay up a while and watch TV in my room while we discussed what an idiot I was for thinking we could put the money in the hotel safe.  We should have just brought it to our room and no one would have suspected we were robbery targets.

I don’t remember even turning on the TV before the police were knocking on the hotel room door.  The hotel manager had called to report two young men dressed in jeans and leather jackets (Guilty, I was 21, it was winter, and we were working in a tobacco warehouse) who may have robbed a bank.

The police were polite.  One of them remembered seeing our sale ads in the newspaper.  I was able to show them the checks were made out to the store.  The hotel manager confirmed our reservations were made in the company name.  I also suggested that if we had stolen the money, it was unlikely we’d ask the hotel to put it in their safe.  The cops agreed.  The hotel manager apologized.  But now even more people knew I was about to sleep with a pile of cash under my pillow.  So not much sleep that night.

Next morning, we skipped breakfast and went straight to the warehouse. As soon as the office manager arrived, we got the address of the bank’s night deposit (Saturday in 1970s, banks were not open) and drove there to get rid of the bag.

I don’t think we told anyone at work about our adventure.